Purity's Glade
by Memoir Snow
Summary: Amelda is a girl wh purposefully chose not to be a trainer - after all, what fun is it if your pokemon is having all the fun, and you yourself cannot partake in the brawl? After all, she has her own strength to prove...
1. 00:00  Pilot

Part thirty four of the race. This was the difficult part - move with utmost skill through the bracken, avert the attention of the guardian mightyena, do _not _underestimate the powers of electric fencing, and then move straight and swift like a ninja past the old lady with the frying pan - who, with no doubt, would be waiting at the front door like every other day this week. For a pensioner, that woman had deadly aim. For this particular house belonged to Crazy Sue - a wealthy woman, who had grown extremely paranoid over time. And as such, she had taken certain "security" measures for her home, growing impatient with the amount of youngsters using her garden as a Residential - Market area shortcut. Well, possibly if she hadn't built her extension through the field like cycle route, she wouldn't have had said problem in the first place…

Good thing Zebstrika's moves were like lightning. He could clear the traps and snares in one gracious jump, unfortunately, crashing like thunder on the way back down, alerting the guardian hellhounds. Each one of them rose from the damp earth, bristled their dark matted fur, and bored all bloodshot eyes on the zebra. Half a stride later, and they all chased after him, in organised chaotic unison.

Zebstrika's rider looked upwards to the skies. The most striking feature about her was her metallic red hair, and matching eye colour. She was young, around 16 or so, and while her clothing was ordinary by street market standards, she only ever chose shades of brown and scarlet to suit her personality. Scanning the clear blue above, and finding them empty, she smirked to herself. It seemed that this particular shortcut had worked it's magic. Racing along the somewhat questionable estate, she planted her bare feet inside the leather stirrups until her behind rose from Zebstrika's flank, and took the reins with well gloved hands. The electric fence was coming up next - the beginning of the end. As the zebra neared, his horns and mane sparked an electric gold, as his entire body became alive. Although the rider was well insulated, she could still feel the tension of the electricity through her muscles. Even so, the adrenaline rush right now conquered all forms of mild pain, and her ride really needed a boost to gain some distance from the mutts yapping not too far behind them. Did they suddenly become faster within the last couple of days, or was Sue feeding them steroids?

Motor Drive kicked in. The electric pulse coursed through Zebstrika's veins, from just a soft brush from the fence. That lady must have really wanted to kill her today, with that high a voltage. The rider sent a soft whisper to her pokemon - his hooves glowed with energy, and in two sparky jumps, he cleared the entire mansion's height and stood proudly on it's roof. The hounds however were smarter than usual, and pressed their way into thin flanks on either side of the building with alarming speed. Steroids _and _additional Omega 3 tablets, it seemed. Some lady had way too much time on her hands. "Keep up the momentum, we still have one last hurdle!" The rider urged her mount on, and halfway through their third leap, it was clear that they were going to make their way successfully across the boundary. Mightyena, however feral they might have seemed, knew this boundary well - the electric tags on their collars were but a painful reminder.

Which only left one thing. Mid air, the rider turned back to the house, just to check. She swore she dodged it by at least a mile, and yet, here the flying metal saucer was, en route to her face. Perhaps semi expecting the impact was worse than not seeing it coming at all - it made the fall all the more painful. She landed far from her mount, on top of that, rolling a couple more metres further, sending a flurry of small rocks and pebbles into the air in the process. The gloves cushioned the impact on her wrists, at least, but blunt shards of gravel were imbedded into her skin all over. Through a hazy vision, she could see Crazy Sue's figure just at the doorway - silver hair tied up in a carefree bun, smiling, and holding the nozzle to a flamethrower. There was no way in hell that device would reach the girl in the dust, but was it risky taking chances?

Exhausted, she lay on her back. Well, at least this run was better than last week's, and by the regular clip clops of Zebstrika's hooves, he didn't seem too hurt either. Once again, the rider looked up into the clear blue, somewhat deflated. Almost immediately, her eyes constricted with passionate anger. A wing's shadow passed over her, and a draconic figure could be seen, leisurely marking it's way across the sky. No. There was no way in hell that she was going to lose now. Not after all of this. Zebstrika already knew - he galloped back to his master, leaning so that one length of rein trailed his side, almost touching the ground. Skilfully, the rider took a hold of it, then used her impressive arm strength to return herself onto his back. Her own spine felt unnaturally disjointed, but she knew that it was a pain that would soon pass. For the moment, all she could do was to intently follow the dragon in the sky.

**A/N:** **Hello, ! This is my very first submission to this website. After many ponderings on the plot for this Pokemon fanfic - I have finally come up with an idea. Before I go ahead with this, I just would like to ask what you guys think of my writing style. Because, really, I'm a little uncertain about it. Pro's out there, how may I become a better writer?**

**~Memoir Snow~  
><strong>


	2. 02: Arrival at May Day City

May Day City was a beauty in itself. The whole thing was pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle; as well as the ground floor (which from an aerial view, the streets were designed like an open flower), there was a just-as elaborate steel floored walkway interconnected with bridges, roofs, and staircases just a couple of feet above. Since the recent population boom to hit the area, these top pathways were kept clear for fast moving workers: where time was of the essence and human traffic would be an unwanted hindrance, as well as a safety hazard.

As such, the rider was one of these people. Even under the conditions of the elevated pathway, she was going dangerously fast, and her two long plaited ponytails tugged harshly on her scalp. She wasn't even watching the road, entrusting her stallion not to crash into anything major, or to run off the walkway altogether. She was still watching the dragon like a hawk, who unfortunately, was nearing his destination. It alighted inside the tower of a tall modern factory - one which had a spiralling staircase encircling it's majestic layout, right the way up to the front door for land bound arrivals. The dragon was in sight for a brief moment, before it's shadow delved down deeper into the building. The rider gritted her teeth, and her stallion seemed to share her emotions. The white on his hair turned a deep gold, until his speed was enough to match that of a small vehicle's. Upon reaching the stairs, they climbed each set vertically, not bothering to take the spiralling but safer route. A short, clipped sound of the hooves signified their arrival at the top - at which point, the rider simultaneously tumbled off Zebstrika's back, holding a satchel in her grip. Not looking back, she barged through the door, running through floor after floor and not a single worker paying mind.

At a first glance, the system of this work room may have seem overly complex, like the very foundations of May Day. This particular place was only home to a delivery centre - there was an open top roof for the delivery of air mail, which allowed filtered yellow sunlight to spill through the infrastructure to give it a light and airy feature, accompanied by infinite numbers of tunnels tapping off into different corridors on different floors, and there was a constant freefall of documents for eager, little messenger pokemon and people alike at the bottom. And the entire thing was open plan.

"Mike!" the red head called, using a golden plated staircase to make her way to the relative centre of the room - the person she was speaking to was a couple of metres above her, standing on a circled platform. Mike was a rather busy and hands on type of manager, meaning that his trench coat's pockets were always filled with hammers, screwdrivers, buttons and sewing kits. Adjacent to him was a rather tall Dragonite, just making his landing and holding a bag full of mail which was hanging just under his claw. Upon recognising the rider, he gave a friendly wave, although the gesture wasn't returned. "Mike! I would have been here sooner than that winged lizard if I-"

"Didn't get hit by Crazy Sue's frying pan?" It was obvious that he didn't share the same 'pain' that the girl did. "Amelda, we told you not to take that route back to the company. It's not so much about what happens to you - if this Dragonite here had gone to help you, he could have gotten hurt. Girls are replaceable. Mail orders and Dragonite are not. You don't have to be the hero all the time."

"Please! If I really wanted to hear that stupid _'__pokemon should do the dangerous tasks, not humans__…'_" It suddenly clicked to Amelda that if Mike knew about the frying pan incident, then that Dragonite saw her, and passed over without so much of a glance to see if she was okay…

"Look, Princess, I'd hate to be right all the time. But us humans can't possibly relate to the strength of pokemon. Why, that's why they exist in the first place. So we can aspire to be like them, and simply admire the strength that we do not have… Ha Ha…" His gaze drifted away, looking in no place in particular, obviously deep in a daydream. Already. Amelda took off her satchel, and threw it square in his face, offended that his attention could be drawn away from her so easily. And this wasn't the first time this has happened either. Mike always was a dreamer. But not about the realistic things - he was always dreaming about humans with pokemon superpowers, or rather, _himself_ as a human-pokemorph hero of sorts. It was just this particular topic which irked her;- Amelda couldn't see how humans were simply happy with being weaker than those animals. Which is why, on this day, she wanted to prove that humans can do things just as well as pokemon could. Well, didn't that backfire…

Dragonite reflexively took hold of the satchel before it did any real damage, and emptied out the contents into a mesh basket beside him. A boy on a Pigeot came, took the basket, and replaced it with a fresh one before flying away - all within a matter of seconds.

"…Yes, and that is how such a perfect pokemorph being would quickly become an idol in May Day… Ah! Amelda! I may have gone off track a little~…" _'__Oh gee, you don__'__t say?__'_"Your pay cheque will arrive here tomorrow morning, do be sharp princess. Also, take it easy! You are but a girl, after all."

Quite possibly, that one line was enough to infuriate Amelda. She balled one hand into a fist, and pointed the other straight towards Dragonite. "Fine, if you think I can't take care of myself, I'll face him, one on one!" Her pose was defiant, and it seemed that even her deep red eyes glowed with anticipation. However the Dragonite, being somewhat of a pacifist, took a few nervous steps backwards. Mike, being Mike, completely ignored the outburst of emotion, and carried on from his discordant trail of thoughts.

"Why yes, there's that too, I'm sure I had more instructions, but I must admit I've forgotten them. I think maybe… see if Jake knows. Run along now," although Amelda had no intentions of 'running' anywhere. When she walked slowly and purposefully towards the spaced out man, Dragonite took that as his cue. He flew forwards, grabbed Amelda in his giant arms, then started the airborne decent back down to the ground floor.

"What the… let go of me, Lizard! I don't need pokemon with wings for anything - I know what stairs are, and I like to keep my feet on the ground! Are you even listening!" She frantically cried. Despite a few fairly painful elbows to the gut, Dragonite stayed completely calm, without uttering so much as a groan. And when Amelda demanded that she should be put down, he placed her gently in front of a makeshift reception desk - still without complaint.

"Do you ever fight back?" She muttered under her breath. Dragonite whined softly in response, then turned to wave to the boy behind the desk. It was simply made out of a curved wooden bench, with stacks of files behind him - ever growing, as fresh sheets fell onto the piles like snow from above. A pokemon - an Emolga - was busy doing the sorting job, by hopping on and off the pillars in a mechanical fashion. The kid who owned him was the same age as Amelda, if a little shorter. The brightness of the room reflected on his expressions, and just his face would've been enough to lighten the mood if Amelda wasn't sulking still.

"Morning, Princess!" He said, in a childlike tone. "What can I do for you today?"

Amelda groaned; Mike really hadn't told Jake about her next job either? "Daydreaming Manager up there said he might've left instructions for my next batch down here. If not, then I may as well take up any other delivery that needs doing." Jake looked up deep in thought, either that, or with the mock-pondering attitude that Mike possessed. Luckily, Amelda didn't notice it this time, for eventually his eyes focused in on a single black mark in the air - one that looked clearly different from the other letters and envelopes in the mix. "Ah! That looks like…"

"Molga!" The squirrel type made an impressive leap into the air to grab the black note in his tiny mouth, then flexed his webbed arms to swoop down onto the reception desk. Amelda snatched the A5 sized note from Emolga, which happened to be a postcard. But not of the conventional kind. Emolga was still holding a piece of paper in it's mouth, which Amelda could see was riddled with numbered instructions and bullet points in tiny handwriting. Looks like Mike had found the instruction sheet after all. Jake took it from his pet/co-worker, while Amelda studied the postcard for a little longer. Dragonite also leaned inwards to get a closer look, just as confused as Amelda was.

"Hey, what on Earth is this meant to mean?" She asked.

"'_A postcard has come in the post for Amelda. She really must have a romantic secret admirer, with such a beautiful image, and such elaborate messages….'"_ She raised an eyebrow at Jake, then back at the note. The 'beautiful image' was simply a large, white, ghostly grin on a black background - the smirk filled the entire page, and reminded Amelda of the Cheshire Cat in fairy tales. Mike sure did have a weird sense of humour. On the back, was simply titled _"Lots of Love."_

"What on Earth…"

"Ah! There's more!" Jake said, continuing his reading. "_'Amelda has been working too much over time recently, so please tell her to take a break, and possibly find some friends. She's becoming such a loner these days, and I hear the circus is in town. Say Uncle Mike said to relax, and enjoy the show!'_ And… that's it for you, really. And Dragonite, Mike wants you back up. And that's really the end of the list."

The dragon perked up, withdrawing his attention from the odd card, then elevated himself back to the central platform. Amelda placed the postcard in a back pocket, meaning to trash it as soon as she exited the building; she couldn't stand to look at it any longer, for the more she puzzled over it, the more it began to look like nightmare fuel.

"Jake, why is it that people don't believe in me? Is it because I'm only human?"  
>"Eh? If this is about Mike, ignore him. He views everything younger than him as nothing but dolls, and Princess, I believe in you! You can totally beat Dragonite's behind in a fair race, I know it!"<p>

"Well… about that… Hey you're right! I'm the Fire Princess! There's no way I can lose to a winged lizard, or any other pokemon!"

He smiled. "That's the Princess I recognise… Actually, I've always wanted to see the circus myself. Wait a moment, and I'll come with you."

"Alright, but hurry up. Can't believe I'm being laid off for the rest of the day…" As Amelda turned, she could faintly hear Emolga's protest of his partner's preparation for his premature leave. Amelda herself sent an idle hand towards her chest, for that was where she kept her locket. It was a crimson gemstone, and quite possibly the origins of her love for all things red. Back at home, her brother had one of the exact same design - except for his one actually opened, as a real locket should. And inside there was a faded, blackened picture of Mother and Father; it wasn't crisp enough to make out any features, but it was hope enough to know that the two weren't always completely alone. Not completely.

Engraved on the back, Amelda assumed was the word "Princess" - however an 's' was missing, but even so, she took up the title as her own. It made her feel somewhat special, as if it would be that single word that would distinguish her from the others. Amelda, the Fighting Fire Princess.

A sense of warmth flooded over her whenever she did this, as if heat emanated from the jewellery itself. When Amelda left the factory, she found her ride still waiting outside, standing patiently. She stroked his mane tenderly, grateful at least that he was allowed for some rest after this morning's episode.

"We'll give it about 5 seconds for the kid to arrive, otherwise it's just a day to ourselves, kay?" Zebstrika snorted, then arced his mane so his face was closer to his master's. Unfortunately, the kid came sprinting out the front door, his clothing and hair slightly static with electricity. Presumably, from a very angry electric squirrel.

"Please, don't ask, just _**go!**_"

**A/N: Right, second chapter. Welp, I really have nothing to say here. Enjoy, or so?**** I suppose that would be so. Pretty please review?**

**~ Memoir Snow ~**


	3. 03: Monkey Business

It wasn't so bad here. There were tales of May Day being a claustrophobic nightmare, and afternoons being like the rush hour from hell, but this was just like ay other town. In fact, with the amount of people still at work, the afternoon was a lot quieter than usual. Probably in the evenings, things would have picked up by then.

Which was unfortunate, since the troupe had to be gone in a couple of hours. Or rather, the pokemon commissioned to them had to be gone in a couple of hours. Simisage, Simisear, and Simipour. To be frank, they didn't fit in at all. For one, they looked atrocious. It was impossible that a creature with leaf, flame patterns, or whatever the hell _that_ was on the water type could ever pass off as a monkey. And here they were, forcing him to use these strange elemental designs, that only a mother could love.

Cross watched the three idly from a lazy eye, while reclining on an earthen brown wooden crater. He was always backstage while the circus was doing the opening acts, waiting his turn. Because all you needed to get comfy was a patchy terrain, a place shrouded from the public eye, and a box. His attire was typical for a circus ring leader, except it was completely in black and white. Bleached and drained of any colour. The rest of his band were exactly the same; since they followed suit to anything that the master did. In Cross' eyes, they were an adorable lot, all quite a deal younger than him. Around that age when school ends, and children had to be off on a pokemon journey, or take private studies. And what if you didn't have the facilities to do either? Well, that was what the circus was for.

The Elementals had been truly and utterly feral since their arrival. Each of them had a crazed look in their eyes, and each time Cross tried to associate with them, all he got was a face full of leaves /torrential spit blast / inferno from Hell. Not even the circus' own Aipom could associate with them, since apparently, normal type pokemon were just too common for them. Inwardly, Cross smiled;- he knew quite a few people he could relate these abominable creatures to. And why had he gotten these pokemon anyway? He ran a circus, not a gym. The pokemon were obviously meant for brute strength and battle, not elegant acrobatics. How would they be on stage? Were they any good actors? Would they terrify the entire audience? For their species, they were extremely large, all three easily passing the height of the group Slaking. And that thing was a fat monster. So how on earth was he supposed to explain what the elementals were meant to do?

"Bah… Cross, this reception sucks!" Colt, Cross' younger brother. On his shoulder was a rather lively looking Ambipom - _Cross'_ Ambipom, he was sure, but somehow it's possession was leaning slightly in Colts favour. He made a mental note to fix that as soon as they were on the road again. Colt was almost a spitting image of the ringmaster - same silver slicked back hair, same narrow eyes, same facial makeup. The same personal passions, the same expressions when angered. The same apparent beliefs that pokemon should not be automatically seen as superior to humans. "I'm a tamer, not a damn unicyclist, and there I am working my butt off on the demented bike in the middle of the day and what do I get? _'Where are the pokemon, we want to see the pokemon moves, I want to see a contest, what are humans doing here? Whine, whine more!' _Let's just get that old geezer's job done, then get out of here." Just as Cross was just about to reprimand his little brother for his language, the elementals took that as their cue to enter the stage. Each of the giants purposefully made their way forwards, paying the two humans no mind at all.

"C… Colt! Do that tamer thing, make them go a little slower, I'm not ready yet!""Doesn't work on pre-owned pokemon. Doesn't work on _those_ things. No can do."

Cross tried to construct a single word, but all he managed to do was open and shut his mouth like a goldfish. He wasn't ready at all, and as luck would have it, his members on stage at this moment probably weren't either. The people who gave him this job didn't even give him a script or theme to follow of sorts, obviously not knowing how hard improvisation was on stage. It's very different than improvising in a board room, a place were you visit regularly, and in an environment you already know… oh, how wonderful it would have been to be as privileged as they were.

Usually, drawing back the curtains and entering the stage as the main attraction was the highlight of Cross' day. Unfortunately, due to a certain three idiots in the back, he had to sprint in-between them - not only was that terrifying enough, as he felt that he could be back stabbed at any given moment, end ended up reaching the front slightly flustered. Which was never a great first impression.

"Ladies and Gentlemen…" the two people in stage, a bleach blonde girl and boy unicycle jugglers, obviously busy and in deep concentration, looked up in confusion. Their pale irises spoke one word to Cross in annoyance - as soon as they tumbled off stage, he knew that he was going to get a great deal of yelling at after this performance. He knew the qualities of his band well, and he knew that those two hated to be interrupted at any given moment. At least, this time, it wasn't strictly his fault. Just as Colt had explained earlier, the gathered crowd had whined at the appearance of yet another human. Still, they were pretty hopeful since Cross wasn't here to perform any acts. And then, all at once, there was a gasp; a soft whisper that hushed the entire mass of people, and the ringmaster was met with a number of agape and awed faces to match. That probably meant that the giants had entered the stage. Each of them moved forwards like robots, and quite possibly, the audience thought they were too. The pansy looking water thing took centre stage, completely omitting Cross from the view of the audience. Like they cared. Hopefully, they wouldn't ruin anything.

"The noble capital of Silverlight presents… Region wide 'Shadow City' Tournament! This is nothing like a gym battle, or even the Battle Frontier. This is were the best of the best gather, this is where the colossus of all Pokemon come to fight!"

To emphasise the point, the three elementals each fired a powerful blast in the air, as well as flexing their muscles, striking impressive stances, and overall behaving like narcissists/Colt in front of a mirror.

"Those of you who are confident in your skills in a trainer, trust me, you will not be disappointed! This is for the best of the best, the colossal giants, power that you have never dreamed of? Who thinks they could have the strength, to take down one of the beasts?" Of course, that question was a rhetoric. Just as Cross paused, to think of an ending speech, someone near the back had spoken _'Amelda could.'_

Another silence. More whispers, and then the same line over again. _'Yes… the princess… Amelda, the fighting… the crimson fire…' _it swept across the market like they were in a pantomime, and even for Cross, this feeling was surreal. The only person who was not among the chorus was a girl atop a Zebstrika - her hair was a brillant red, and Cross just knew that it had to be Amelda, since her face told that she was unsure whether to take up the challenge or not.

For some reason, that Cross was not sure of, he invited her to the stage.

And for some reason, that she was not sure of, she agreed.

As soon as she did so, the crowd roared. There was the overbearing chant of _"Princess, Princess,"_ as Cross took her hand gently and helped her onto the side of the stage. He stared blankly at her scarlet eyes, for just a moment, before admitting that he truly had no idea what he was doing. At which point, she stared decisively into his, saying that she knew exactly what to do, in such a way that there was no possibility that he could doubt her. Yet…

'_Fire versus Fire! Priiiiiiiiiincess!"_

Princess?

It seemed that Amelda was quite the celebrity here for her fighting skills. He could tell by the way she stood, that radiant stance, that she has probably done this many times before. But she probably hasn't faced anything of this size yet.

Fire versus Fire. Amelda stood straight in front of Simisear, who was the nearest elemental to them on the stage. The pokemon seemed near close to being three times her height, but that didn't seem to waver her confidence one bit. Which made Cross remind him of himself, more than anything else.

Simisage didn't hesitate. It sent a powerful fire blast of towards Amelda, who seemed to be completely unfazed by it. She went under, fists at the ready, aiming for the elemental's feet. It's claws seemed to sharpen, timing the girl's attack to counter slash. At that crucial moment however, she skidded straight in between his legs, and followed up behind with a sky uppercut.

Sky Uppercut?

How was she able to use a pokemon move?

It was then that Cross noticed the amulet hung across her neck. It was glowing red, faintly; it's power just begging to be let out. So that's what the initial attraction was. Another Soulstone. Possibly, the Fighting type. At this rate, the kid could easily make it ignite; easily gain the eons of power that he could only have dreamed of unlocking...

While Simisear was still airborne and upside-down, she leapt forwards and closely followed with a double slap, flipped upwards so that she was above it, took a hold of its waist and started on the decent back downwards towards the ground. Cross had watched the jewellery item closely throughout the duration of the takedown, however even when the smoke and dust was cleared from the ground impact of the attack, it was still the same. Still that same, faint, dying glow. Even that peformance wasn't enough to make a Soulstone ignite – then what would?

Amelda seemed just as surprised as the rest of the audience to find Simisear still standing. The crowd cheered yet again, although seeming to support neither side. The girl seemed all too happy to charge straight back in, and give Simisear a second beating, but one flickered gaze in Cross' general direction and the Soulstone's life energy died down to nothing.

Now, what was that for?

She came towards the elemental with a full blast of energy, but even now Cross could see it was all for show. Probably by the obvious, and yet amazing feat, of allowing herself to be hit with a full fire blast in the face. No, really, it was something quite special, the fact that her body was still intact after that. The rest of the act went that way as well - Amelda allowing an enraged Simisear to attack her as much has he liked, so he appeared stronger at the end of it all than he actually did. The final strike was made by Simisear, of course, with a well aimed punch to the girl's face and she was sent skidding and flying all the way across the stage, back at Cross' feet. Motionless.

A few unsettling moments passed, until Cross gathered up the courage to check on Amelda's condition. This wasn't easy for him under normal circumstances, but was it really right to allow a stranger up onto the stage to get pummelled by an angry pokemon on steroids? His unsteady hand moves towards her head, who's face was still buried into the wooden frameworks of the stage. Of course, he could only hope that Simisage wouldn't make a fiery backstab at this point in time…

Amelda on the other hand didn't even need the help; she made that quite apparent by acrobatically flipping herself onto her feet, extending her arms then making a rather large bow to the audience. Her face was smiling when she heard the applause and cheers, and retained her proud position, even with the ends of her plaits still burning. Cross was speechless, yet at the same time, felt that he couldn't let this opportunity go - he had just met quite an extraordinary person. It was worth asking whether she would travel with the troupe - although chances were, she'd decline. But still.

"That… was amazing end to our performance. You really are quite the character, young lady."

She turned to him, her smile beaming. "No problem. Fighting Fire Princess Amelda, at your service!"

**A/N: I must say, this was going to be longer, but the second half of this chapter's been so freaking hard to write... And because I've been writing on different days, the style keeps on changing. Most frustrating. But hey, I'll figure out something.  
><strong>

**~Memoir~**


	4. 04: Backstage

Imagine a world that was trapped in solid lines black and white, and you would have placed yourself right into Amelda's perspective. An environment stripped of emotion, full of pale and blank surfaces that were even plastered on the doll faced children, who acted like puppets even off stage. Surreal was an understatement - before she was fighting a mutated giant monkey belonging to the circus, and now she had actually entered the backstage of the freak show.

Amelda sat before a white framed mirror, held up by the small hands of a small boy, whose hair was close to white. A girl, slightly older with the same hair colour, went about the business of cleaning the burn stains on her clothes, and would have done the same for Amelda's hair, but she did not let anyone touch it. She sighed at the charcoal black ends of her hair, with an expression almost as blank as the scenery around her. She had taken the plaits out to try and at least sort _something_ out - if anything was certain, it was that the burnt-hair smell was going to stick. Her hair fell onto the dressing table beside her locket; the colours used to match completely, but now…

"Hmm… you know, if you dyed your hair like that, you could even become one of us!" He said. He had a point. Every child's hair was jet black or peroxide blonde, and Amelda could easily join the bandwagon of _"People who looked like they just jumped out of the 1920's TV screen"_

She learnt that the oldest one talking to her was called Cross. He was the one that looked the most like an artist's _Marionette_;- he had a pair of diamond tattoos down one side of his face, grey eyes, and a pair of star charms dangling from his ears. Oh, was that all? He also had a neck piercing, anklets, stylised eyebrows, a silver crucifix plaited into his hair at the back… you get the idea.

"I suppose," Amelda started politely as she could, trying to put the best face on amidst all of this whilst also seeming modest. "But would I be as good a performer as the other members? My talents are fairly limited. And some of the people here just look as if they're amazing."

"But you were pretty good fighting back there. Although, tell me, why did you stop?"

"Well, you were promoting a tournament for super strong pokemon trainers only, right? It'd look pretty bad if the pokemon you were using either got beaten up by a human, or ended up killing one because it couldn't handle it's powers correctly. Also, something told me that Simisear didn't have the talents as a performer, meaning that the outcome of the audience's reaction was pretty much down to me."

Cross said that he only wanted to ask a few questions, but five minutes in, it started to feel uncannily like an interrogation. Amelda had only came backstage because she thought there'd be a prize of some sort, but it hadn't seemed to be anything like that. Just more and more questions on her life, her past, more and more questions on topics she had no information of. And did Cross ever let her ask her own questions?

"So, who are you living with?"

_Swear he asked a variant of that before._

"Well… there's my little brother Nate, Teresa, and the house Delcatty.""No parents?""Nope. Well, Teresa said they were good people. Very rich, very famous among some, complete strangers to others."

"The same as you then, huh, _Princess_?" Cross edged a little closer on a dark brown crater, seemingly eager to hang on to every word Amelda said. Sure, she was _amazing, _but wasn't this a little over the top? "I haven't even heard of you before, and yet everyone here treats you as a celebrity!"

_Yeah, only when they want to see an unusual human fight a pokemon. And only then._

Amelda couldn't help but admit that she felt a certain feeling when she was near Cross. Probably the reason why she went up on the damned stage to begin with - it was a mix between doubt, thrill, and curiosity. Something like the feelings of walking through a haunted mansion, or drowning in the rainfall, or racing through Crazy Sue's backyard. No, this feeling didn't make any sense at all, and it shouldn't even be there.

"So, Teresa's your carer? What kind of person is she? Look like? Favourite clothing?"

"Well… she's… a Blaziken."

"A… Blaziken… talking…?" Amelda waited a while to let Cross sink the information in, and it was as if a light bulb went off in his head.

"You mean the same Teresa who single handedly defeated the Johto Elite Four?"

_Bingo. _"That's the on-"

"And the same Teresa that was blacklisted from 34 championships across the globe for personal safety reasons?"

That even fewer people knew about that one. "Yes, but she's-"

"And the same Teresa that was at the heart of the Red Mark Massacre?"

The what?

"I… think that might be another-"

"Oh _right…" _Cross seemed eager to change the topic of conversation, which still left Amelda's mind rather blank. What had he meant by that?_ "_Look, _princess, _with a fighter like that by your side you can literally take over the world. Or at least live in luxury, definitely not working as a post woman." Amelda laughed a little, before replying; "Why, that's exactly why… Teresa doesn't want us to become to attached to an easy life. After all, she's already had it, and seen it all, and told us that riches were not always the key to happiness." Cross studied her for a split second, sceptical, clear that he didn't believe a word she just said. It was understandable - that you could yearn for something you've never had. This wasn't something that a total stranger could understand right away. As his answer, Cross put his palm to his face, while muttering something along the lines of "Kids…"

"It's not because I'm a kid!" Amelda retorted calmly. "In fact, wishing for the things you don't have is childish! That's the way Teresa put it!"

"I'll take it that's the same Teresa who told you that circus troupes are _childish, _and so you shouldn't join them?"

Amelda readily turned to the defensive, slightly blushing a little. "I… I didn't say that was the reason I'm not joining… I still have my family to take care of too, you know..."

He laughed, the same sort of laugh as if he was watching a comedy show. Amelda quickly learnt that he had a habit of doing that, laughing things off to completely change the mood. Maybe you needed a quality like that to be a ringleader. "We're in town for a few more days, that's plenty of time to change your mind. In the meantime, why don't you run along to your family and ask them to join too, huh?""I… thank you for your… well thought out advice?" Amelda stood up, even with the girl still sorting out her shorts with a needle and thread. She quickly stopped, cut the thread with her teeth, and began to pack up and leave. The boy sat stock still, as if unfazed by any action at all. "I'll… see you around, I guess." She began to leave the open air group gathering, while muttering a rather awkward 'thanks' to the siblings. The exit was going rather smoothly, until Amelda felt a rather smooth action against her backside. Just out of instinct, she spun round with an open palm to slap the nearest object to her ass. Bleach Blond Kid was expecting it, and leant backwards towards the grass to avoid the blow. In his hands was a photograph - all black, but with a gleaming white sinister smile across the front. It was that lovely postcard again, remerging it's ugly image back to the surface of Amelda's memories.

"Cassius, what is that?" Cross asked, but it was unsure whether he actually cared about the issue, or whether he was just trying to entertain his child. It was only when an Ambipom swung down from God knows _what_ with a bright wide smile, the same as that on the postcard, that he gave his full attention. He seemed to hold a serious face for a few seconds, before breaking out into that familiar, uncontrollable laughter once more.

"Amelda! Looks like you've found yourself a lover too! All I'm saying, is to keep very alert on your way back home tonight, my _princess."_

_- x - _

"So, what was the prize?"

"Ah, it was nothing. Quite literally. The ring leader mentioned something about having the same postcard I got this morning, and that was about it. I didn't even get a 'thanks for your efforts' kind of thing. Total disappointment."

Jake and Amelda had reunited, with both of them riding on Zebstrika back to Jake's house. They had come to the agreement that Jake would ride at the front on this journey, seeing as Amelda was exhausted enough already, and she still had to make the trip home. In fact, her face was half planted in Jake's back, half asleep already.

"Princess, you did great. And all publicity is good publicity, even if you did get blasted half way across the stage.""Deliberate." Amelda sounded out, leaving little room for questioning. "Oi, Jake, why have we stopped? We've been here for quite some time now."

"Well… uhm. This is kind of my house."

Amelda looked up drowsily, and there it was. Jake's house, which she had only seen once or twice before. Nothing special, just a bungalow with a few flower pots hanging around outside, but it still emitted a warm, homely feel nonetheless. He got off her mount, and helped her move along closer to the reins. She grabbed them lazily, and Zebstrika even had to buck a few times to keep her upright. "Are you sure you don't want to stay here for the night? We could search around in my library and try to find what that picture was all about." It was a tempting offer, but Amelda knew she had to keep moving, otherwise she'd fall asleep in his house for real.

Zebstrika sent a mild jolt of electricity through Amelda - that woke her up. "I'm completely fine. Don't worry yourself, Jake." Her ride reared, and was soon off on a gallop towards the outskirts of May Day. "I'll see you tomorrow! Take care for me!" and soon her image was fading away in the distance. Jake on the other hand only sighed - it wasn't him that needed to worry about himself.

_She took the safe route this time. No where near Crazy Sue's compound - trying to go from her front door backwards was even more of a nightmare. Even though this path took about an hour longer while walking, the scenery was still pretty nice. You could see the mountains to the right, the beach behind you, and there was even a hilly spot on the trail where it looked as if you could see the four corners of the Earth, like a map spreading out for miles around you. It was on that spot that the recurring nightmarish grin made it's reappearance, but Amelda knew that this time it was the real deal. It loomed over the tree branches like a shadow - sometimes there, sometimes not._

_"Heh, finally," she said, grinning to herself. "Time to settle this once and for all. Zebstrika, Discharge!"_


End file.
